Thirteen words
by freakishly.srivatsan
Summary: For sometimes the shyest of souls appear to be the most interesting, and enough is said in thirteen words exactly.


They were all talking about it. Every single bloody place she went. They didn't even lower their voices when she brushed past them.

Though, she reflected bitterly, Maya's deal was the richest. Her friend, her _best friend,_ was twisting a silly, innocent secret simply because she happened to fancy the same boy. Though, why anyone would feel threatened by a shy girl was yet to be comprehended.

But even though he was smart enough to not believe rumours completely, he'd also be smart enough to know that every rumour had at least a grain of truth. And that frightened her.

What would he think, once he saw through it?

What would he do?

Blooming Blubberkoffs, what would _she_ do?

It upset her so much, she didn't even give him the secret glances that shy girls like her were famous for.

**LEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEF TYLEFTY**

The owl knocked at her window at exactly nine. It startled her, and for a moment she was worried if there was some sort of emergency. It was a school owl, so one of her friends probably had some sort of homework doubt at this time of the night. She and Lily shared an equal number of assignment requests, the only difference being that Lily would politely refuse.

She sighed. She was so weak minded.

_I've decided to write thirteen words to you every night. Count the words._

She did, almost obediently. Thirteen words exactly. The note wasn't signed, so after a brief minute of puzzling she peered at it closely.

And gasped.

It was unmistakable. Even if she didn't have such a huge crush on him, Sirius Black was known everywhere for his crazy sprawl style of writing. This common knowledge involved an incident in the Great Hall, when he literally painted his words on Severus Snape using a clever spell, and it had lasted for _days._

The dread began to collect in her stomach, but then she realised that he sounded remarkably cool for someone who had heard that the shyest girl in Gryffindor had a shrine for him in her room, efficiently hidden with creepy spells.

Or maybe he was mocking her.

The dread poked at her again.

**LEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEF TYLEFTY**

She'd literally stormed back into her dorm the next evening. The one time she actually let down her shy girl cover and let a slimy slytherin have it, it just _had_ to backfire horribly.

Avery was known for his tendency to be an asshole, but he was being particularly nasty in that class – he'd made a remark about Tanya Gingerbread's muggleborn status.

A really nasty one.

So it had been inevitable, really, that someone would risk a detention to hex his scrawny ass off.

It'd just been a bit of a shock that _she_ had been the one to hex him.

It had been a rather impressive wrinkle curse, and Avery had to drink water every thirty seconds to not shrink into his form too much. She'd gotten a detention for three whole weeks – and her classmates were shocked pet again, because she'd probably never gotten a detention in her life.

The very same owl pecked at her window again. She couldn't breathe – so many dramatic events in one day took its toll on a shy girl, after all – but she read it anyway, her fingers trembling slightly.

_Heard what you did to Avery in Arithmancy. Good job. Still thirteen words._

And then she realised she'd take a million detentions if it meant he would say, "Good job" again.

**LEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEF TYLEFTY**

The next week was unsurprisingly uneventful – even the detentions. She didn't think they were that bad, really. But she supposed she had raised her hopes too high when she thought she might run into him.

When the owl arrived, she felt jittery all over again. She wondered if she'd ever get used to it.

_I think we should get to know each other. What's your favourite colour?_

He actually wanted her to reply. He actually valued her opinions.

And just like that, she threw away seven years of being dreadfully shy. Or, at least, the "dreadfully" part.

She picked up a scrap of parchment, and wrote down, _brown._ And some other questions.

**LEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEF TYLEFTY**

She tried not to wait for it too anxiously. It didn't work.

But the letter came. He'd still managed to fit it into thirteen words exactly.

_Green._ She giggled, she couldn't help it. If the other Gryffindors found out their favourite badass liked green, they'd flip. _Wizarding chess._ It seemed odd to her that Quidditch wasn't his favourite game. _Quidditch and photography. _His hobbies, leaving her startled once more.

And finally, for what he planned to do:

_Beating Bellatrix' ass at getting more detentions._

Yup. Definitely Sirius Black.

**LEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEF TYLEFTY**

She had literally shooed away her roommates when the next letter came.

_You seem to be wicked at Potions. Remus busy. Library, 5 eve._

There were no blooming butterflies in her stomach today.

There were _bleeding hippogriffs._

Not literally, of course.

But still. He wanted to meet her the very next day. Even though she was technically second resort.

He'd dazzled her with a warm smile followed by a customary, "Hi," and showed her what his essay was supposed to be. For a moment, her lips trembled at the thought that he was _using _her to do his homework, but he quickly noticed.

"Oh, no, no," he assured her hastily. "I've actually done most of it. I just need help in listing the effects. I _do_ do my homework, you know," he said when he saw her look, "But I never confirm facts. And now I need to scrape through with a decent grade, but don't feel like looking into a book."

"So how can I help you?" she said, surprising herself with her own confidence.

Definitely his presence.

"I'll read it out," he said, almost shyly, "And just clarify it for me. All you have to do is nod, my Lady," he made his voice sound grave and butlerish, "I wouldn't dream of bothering you further!"

She giggled, and gestured for him to start.

It shocked her exactly how intelligent he was – and without reading a book, save briefly glancing at his textbook during class! He was correct at all the facts that mattered, made a few mistakes, and she corrected him, patiently.

What shocked her more was her own ability to listen to him whilst staring at his lips the whole two hours.

**LEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEF TYLEFTY**

She declined an invitation to the Gryffindor victory party at the Common Room. Her outburst during the game had been dramatic as it was.

She didn't know why she had done it. But she just took one look at his sweating, intense, we're-going-to-be-all -right-even-if-it-is-the-last-thing-I-do face, and screamed, "Potter and Black! Give those snakes a whack!"

It had been incredibly corny, and if the others had allowed the words to register they would have snorted, but Lily seconded the line, and before she knew it half the bloody stadium was shouting it.

Needless to say, Gryffindor won the Cup.

She was startled when she saw the owl. Wasn't he supposed to be at the party? Her heart fluttered at the fact that he'd made time to write thirteen words. To her.

_Glad to know you were cheering for me at the game. We won!_

She ignored the evident line of smugness that his words carried. She ignored the fact he sounded conceited when he said "me" instead of "us" or "me and James."

She just focused on the drunk hippogriffs in her stomach, because she felt so very happy for him.

**LEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEF TYLEFTY**

James had invited her to their portion of the table because a) she was Lily's friend and b)she had cheered him on and given him "unimaginable confidence."

She had looked straight into his eyes, but before she could address him, Remus was asking about her future plans.

She did, however, notice that he hadn't said a word.

_Remus seems to fancy you. Do you like him back? Owl soon._

She sighed, tossing away the scrape of parchment. Not only was he horribly wrong about Remus liking her (he liked Laura), he also appeared to want to set them up.

She was his friend. Nothing more.

**LEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEF TYLEFTY**

To say that she was startled when James invited her over for Christmas dinner was an understatement. Startled, and happy. The Potters were acceptable in the eyes of her parents, who were strictly neutral, and after a brief request for permission from her Mum, she said yes.

Her Mum had gone along with her, just to see her off. The whole gang had been invited – and Laura. And her, of course.

He'd stared at her with the most peculiar expression throughout dinner. Truth be told, it had been the most delightful dinner in her life, and she loosened up quite quickly, surprising them all. She couldn't tell if he was surprised, though.

Later, he excused himself, and after fifteen minutes, she followed pursuit. James (through several mouthfuls of meat) pointed at the garden and told her Sirius would be there.

She blushed, but went anyway.

"You looked so happy in there," he said, after ten minutes of staring at the soil.

"That's because I am." She swallowed. "What was your family like?"

He turned to her. "You haven't heard the rumours? I've been disowned."

"I know," she said, "But you've obviously not talked about it to your mates."

He was a little angry now. "For a reason, too. I don't like talking about my family."

She shrugged. "That's the point. You should let it out at some point. Christmas seems the best time."

"You don't know anything about difficult secrets."

"I do know what it's like to keep everything to yourself," she said quietly, "I've been doing it all my life."

His eyes softened, and after a brief silence, relented. "Father was actually pleasant when he wanted to be. You know, no matter how busy he was, he'd never miss a birthday, and make sure the whole family didn't miss it, either." Hr breathed in deeply. "My brother was sort of cool. I wish I could get to know him. Bellatrix was a bitch ninety percent of the time, "they chuckled, "But she had her Sister moments. She even stuck up for me once or twice. It was over some blood purity misunderstanding issue, but let's just say I never saw the neighbour's kid again. They're evil," he whispered, "And I hate them, and I'm proud to be in Gryffindor, but sometimes their disappointment just gets to me."

She waited for approximately five seconds before pressing her lips to his.

Quidditch must have assured incredible reflexes, because his response was automatic.

Not to mention bloody fantastic.

It wasn't exactly a remarkable routine. Mild clashes of tongue, occasional pauses to hover over one another's lips, nibbling, mild and mutual feeling up. But there was something intense about it, and it excited her that she was contributing to the intensity.

She ran her fingers through his locks and drove him crazy, he ran his fingers along her jaw line and drove her crazy.

When they finally decided to conclude the session, she felt unsatisfied _and_ content, confused _and_ clear mined, energetic _and_ calm.

She felt uncertain.

And she loved it.

**LEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEF TYLEFTY**

When she gets back home, her mother asks about her achievements.

"I saw very good looking young men there," she says, her eyes twinkling, "And I do hope you've snagged one of them with your shyness."

She blushes. "Yeah. The boy with the longer hair."

"Ooh! What's his name?"

"Black," she says without thinking. "Sirius Black."

Never had she realised the true meaning of the phrase, "and the fire in her eyes dimmed," until then, when her mother's rosy cheeks paled.

"Mother, he's the disowned one," she started pleading immediately, "Please. Mother, please…"

"You will not see him." Deathly calm. "You will not see him, and that is final."

And suddenly, she felt her body go rigid, and her eyes hardened. "I shall."

"That he is a Black is bad enough, " her mother roared, "But he has been disowned. Penniless –"

"But he'll-"

"-and he'll be the first to die when there is war. Child. Sweet girl. Please," Her mother was crying now, "Please stop seeing him. None of the dark ones, but none of the brave ones, either. No one who will be dragged into war."

"Mother-"

"Think of your sister."

And suddenly, reality crashed into her. Anne. Sweet, sweet Anne. Fell in love with a kind, brave man – one of the first to be killed. Eventually killed herself because she loved him so much.

It was selfish. It was unimaginably selfish, to _Sirius_,to lead him on like that only to throw it at his face, and she was going to say no, but…

She took a look at her mother, her mother who had never said "please" to anyone, her mother who had never ordered her about.

And decided.

**LEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEF TYLEFTY**

_Never took you to be a two timing bitch._

_Stuck up, worthless slut._

Bitterly, she noticed that it still was thirteen words. He'd sent it to her in the morning on purpose, knowing it would ring in her mind the whole day.

And ring it did. For weeks.

_Two timing bitch._

She'd been faithful to Derek, although one couldn't say it was reciprocated. He openly cheated on her, but she just didn't care. All so that one day she could snag his oh-so-neutral surname.

_Stuck up…_

They ignored her completely – save Lily. Otherwise, life went back to normal. Though people did wonder why James kept throwing hexes at her every chance he got.

…_worthless slut._

She loved him. Her mother could try to convince her otherwise, but she did. Maybe she wouldn't marry at all, and one day she'd be old enough to defy her mother. But he'd be gone by then.

**LEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEF TYLEFTY**

She cried over it. Bawled, until her roommates were frightened out of their wits. All they knew was that the scrap of parchment had arrived at nine.

_Lily told me. I'm so sorry. My name screws things, yeah? So sorry._

She knew, just knew that she'd never see him again, after graduation. If only he'd dropped a tiny, "I care about you," she would have left the school happy.

**LEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEF TYLEFTY**

She moved to Hungary – Budapest, to be exact. But even after she hears about the end of the war, she can't go back. She doesn't know any other place, now that she's spent so much time here.

The boy arrives at nine, and she's timid to let in a visitor at night. But he's from England, and there is something shockingly familiar about him.

"I don't mean to be rude, but, um, could I speak to Eleanor Rigby?" he's asking her, looking like a lost puppy at her porch.

"That's me. Come in."

"Who are you?" she asks finally.

He looks up from his tea, pleasantly surprised. "Harry Potter."

Of course. The newspapers. The poor boy who ended the war. She was grateful, and admired his courage, but also felt a little sad for him: yet another poor soul who fell into the hands of Destiny.

And so he tells her about how Sirius Black had been his Godfather, how he had died – he pauses, but she insists that he continue – how he'd been imprisoned unfairly, and how he thought he owed it to his Godfather to reveal the truth to the world after the war.

And how he'd slipped a sealed envelope into his pocket a few months before his death, telling him to deliver it afterwards.

He pulls it out, and she smells it first. It's peculiar, and probably her imagination, but it smells like Sirius – of smoke and plum cakes.

The boy looks at her very closely. He's got the most thoughtful eyes.

Lily's eyes. James's face.

And he's just as kind. "You can cry."

She wails. Wails, and screams, until she chokes on her tears. He's alarmed now, and sits by her side on the couch. This boy, the son of her best friend and her love's best friend, who has never seen her before.

She knows why he won the war – because kindness begets kindness, friendship begets friendship.

Thirty five minutes later, and he's still sitting patiently, getting a bit teary himself.

Finally, she calms down.

She rips open the envelope, runs her fingers over the crazy sprawl fondly, before letting the words register.

When they do, her heart stops.

_I just want you to know that I've always loved you. Always will._

She absently notes that it is thirteen words.

Thirteen words exactly.

**LEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEF TYLEFTY**

**A/N: Kindly leave a review. Eleanor Rigby is a song by the Beatles and the song was based on a book of the same name. It's about a terribly lonely woman – and I sort of felt the name was apt.**


End file.
